


i know you're not scared of anything at all

by chocobos



Series: child's play [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Kindergarten & Pre-school, Alternate Universe - humans know angels exist, Fluff, Kid!Fic, M/M, Schmoop, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-15
Updated: 2013-02-15
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:59:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chocobos/pseuds/chocobos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean's never seen Cas look so nervous before. It might be because cas is about to meet his family for the first time in well–<i>ever</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i know you're not scared of anything at all

**Author's Note:**

> Sequel to 'Child's Play.' Again, this was written a while ago, so it's not a new work.
> 
> Beta'd by Rosie.

Dean has never seen Cas look so nervous before.  
  
He didn’t even look this nervous when he had to participate in the Spelling Bee because his stupid brother Gabriel thought it would be funny to see him try to spell with a stutter. Dean had learned early on in their friendship that Cas had a stutter, but he hid it well, through speech therapy from Heaven’s best specialists–or at least that’s what Cas told him.  
  
He wasn’t even this nervous when Meg–brown-haired-Meg–came up to him and told him that his eyes were pretty and asked him to be her boyfriend. Dean didn’t understand why Cas turned her down, but he was happy that he did. Cas was his, he was his best friend and he didn’t want some gross, smelly girl to come in between them.  
  
Dean invited Cas over for dinner earlier that day during their recess hour together.  
  
“I’ve never been to an Earth home before,” Cas told him, his eyes wide in the way that Sammy’s were when he saw that mom had ice cream in her hands.  
  
“Well, now you can come to mine!” said Dean, not bothering to hide how excited he was. His best friend was coming to his house. No one had ever been over to his house, except for his neighbor, Chuck, but Chuck was weird and always smelled like grape juice and locked himself in his room, screaming about how he was going to become the next greatest-author-in-the-world.  
  
Dean didn’t see how that was possible when Chuck was only six, too, but his mom had always told him that it was better to dream big than to not dream at all.  
  
He had everything planned out, too. They were going to eat dinner, Dean’s favorite: a bacon cheeseburger with finger tater tots and some green beans. Then Dean was going to show him his room, and then they would play something cool, like Cops and Robbers or maybe something like house–which was a little too girly for Dean’s liking, but he would do anything that Cas wanted, really.  
  
Now that they’re here, though, Cas looks increasingly nervous. His eyes are darting from Dean’s face to his front door, and his wings are fluttering fast and quick against his back. He pulls Cas aside, because if coming over to his house and meeting his parents and Sammy is too much for Cas, then he wants to know now.  
  
Dean wants Cas to meet his parents more than he wants anything, but he wants Cas to want it, too.  
  
“Are you okay, Cas?” Dean asks, using his best ‘I’m-a-worried-Winchester’ voice.  
  
Cas shuffles on his feet, like he can’t get comfortable. Dean doesn’t really think that’s possible though, because he’s seen Cas’ shoes before, and they’re even nicer than Dean’s. “Dean,” he says, slowly, almost sadly. “I’m scared,” he whispers.  
  
Dean’s reminded of that one day when Cas got glue in his wings, because Alistair was the big D-word that his dad sometimes mumbled into the phone while talking to Uncle Bobby–but Dean was never allowed to say that word because he was a little boy and little boys were too special to say those things.  
  
Or at least that’s what his mom says.  
  
“Why’re you scared, Cas?” He asks past the ugly lump in his throat.  
  
Cas looks up at him with big blue eyes that are close to watering with tears. Dean reaches down and grasps his hand tightly in his own, because something about them being close to each other calms the Angel down, and Dean’s always fond of him best when he’s like that. “What if they don’t like me? What if they think I’m not good enough?”  
  
“No!” Dean shouts, passionately, so much so that it ends up scaring Cas, and his wings halt against his back. Dean doesn’t know exactly what that means, but he’s pretty sure that it’s not very good. “They’re going to love you Cas,” he whispers. They have to love him because Dean loves him.  
  
“You said your father doesn’t like Angels,” Cas whispers back, in a too-small voice. Dean feels something tighten in his chest, or maybe it’s in his stomach, he’s not really sure. It’s not something he wants to think about, either.  
  
“He doesn’t like anything, Cas,” Dean shrugs, because it’s kind of true.  
  
His dad is weird. He doesn’t like anything but then he seems to like everything all at once. He grunts and complains and is always slimy from his job at the mechanic shop that he owns.   
  
(He’s also the best dad in the entire world–out of all of the other dads out there; Dean has never met them before, probably never will, but his dad’s the best because he’s Dean’s.)   
  
Dean doesn’t think it’s possible for his dad to hate something as great as Castiel. Things like that, Dean thinks, just aren’t possible.  
  
But anyway, his dad isn’t like other people, and Dean knows this. He’s sort of scared of everything in the way that Dean’s scared of the dark, but only because he doesn’t want anything to happen to his family. His mom says this is because he spent four years serving in the army for the United States of America–which is, apparently, where they live, though Dean’s always just thought of it as ‘Lawrence’–but Dean thinks he’s probably always been this way.  
  
Dean also thinks his dad is a lot like him, or maybe he’s a lot like his dad, but he thinks that John is pretty good at hiding things.  
  
His dad has never really hated anything that Dean’s shown interest in before, though, and he hopes it doesn’t start now. Even if Cas is an Angel, he’s an awesome Angel, and surely his dad will see that, too.  
  
“But he’ll like you, I promise,” Dean says, squeezing Cas’ hand again. His wings stop fluttering against his back again, and he nods, even though he still looks scared.  
  
Dean can’t help but think Cas is the bravest boy there ever was, for a boy so small.  
  
“Okay,” Cas says, his quiet voice wavering slightly, though his eyes show nothing but determination. “I’d like to meet your family, Dean.”  
  
Dean grins. “Cool! You won’t regret this Cas,” Dean assures him.  
  
Cas smiles, and squeezes the hand he’s clutching gently in his own. “You’re my greatest friend, Dean. Of course I will never regret anything when it’s you,” he says.  
  
Dean doesn’t pay attention to the blush spreading across his cheeks, and instead opens his front door and looks around.  
  
The ‘Dinner’ smell is coming from the kitchen, which means that his mom is cooking Dean’s favorite like she promised, and is sticking by the guidelines Dean previously laid out for her this morning. This was serious business, the most serioused business out of everything, and Dean knew that his mom wouldn’t let him down. She hadn’t yet, so he didn’t think she’d start now.  
  
“Mom,” Dean calls, keeping his voice somewhat low in case Sammy was taking a nap.  
  
He learned the hard way that being unnecessarily loud was a very bad thing to do. He didn’t like disrupting Sam from anything, because he was possibly the best little brother Dean could ever really ask for, but there were sometimes when Dean forgot to use his ‘inside voice’. He always apologized after.  
  
Sam always forgave him, but Dean knew that was probably because of the fact that he was so young, more so than because he really, truly had forgiven him.  
  
Suddenly, his mom appears in the front room of their house. He’s pretty sure his mom once called it a foyer, but he’s not really sure how to say that, so he just sticks with ‘front room’ and thinks it’s good enough.  
  
“Dean,” she says, and comes forward, bending down to place a kiss on his forehead.  
  
His mother’s kisses–besides Sam’s–are his favorite. “Hey mom,” he says, and then inclines a shoulder in Cas’ direction. “This is the friend I wanted you to meet earlier.”  
  
She smiles, and offers a delicate hand to Castiel. He looks a little hesitant at first, but then remembers that it’s polite to shake the hands of people who offer them to you, no matter how scared of them he might be.  It’s another reason why Dean thinks Cas is braver out of anybody else.   
  
“Hi,” Mrs. Winchester greets warmly. “I’m Dean’s mom, but you can call me Mary.”  
  
Castiel blushes, obviously not expecting her gentle tone, and nods timidly. “My name is Castiel,” he says, voice soft and shy.  
  
“That’s a very nice name, Castiel,” Mary says, and Cas smiles at her, kind of crookedly, like he wasn’t expecting her to like a name like his.  
  
“I’m named after a very powerful angel,” he clarifies quietly, and then blushes, and Dean knows that everything–at least between his mom and Cas–will be okay.  
  
*  
  
John comes home thirty minutes later.  
  
His dad works long hours and when he comes back he’s usually really tired, but always tries to find time to spend with Dean. Dean likes cars, likes the way that his dad likes them, and sometimes he thinks he likes them as much because his dad does. But Dean doesn’t mind, really. Cars are cool without his dad, but they’re just perfect with him. So, it’s not like his dad is one of those dads that works a lot and never spends time with his family, like those dads on TV–Dean always feels bad for those families, but he’s sure that they have a reason, just like John always does if he’s never home on time.  
  
Luckily, today, he is.  
  
Castiel is a fluttering ball of nerves, his wings constantly moving against his back, and Sammy is laughing at the wind currents hitting his face. It’s the only reason Dean doesn’t tell Cas to stop.  
  
His mom left them alone ages ago, continuing to cook dinner in the kitchen, and then Sammy had woken up, but Dean didn’t mind.  
  
He likes his brother, loves him even. He’s the best brother ever, even if he drools all over the place and sometimes looks at Dean like he’s a piece of food.  
  
Dean just thinks this adds evidence to the fact that he’s possibly the most adorable kid in the whole Kindergarten school–having the approval of Sam (who doesn’t like anything other than those gross green beans that his mom feeds Sam and other vegetables that definitely aren’t worth Sam’s happiness) is like having the approval of one of the teachers that makes Dean’s heart swell in his chest. Like his Art teacher Ms. Missouri who yells at him because his oranges look like baseballs and his horses look like cars. But he thinks she does it because he’s her favorite, even if she’s not allowed to say.  
  
Dean is too awesome not to like, after all.   
  
Suddenly, Cas’ wings stop moving, and the lack of motion breaks Dean away from his thoughts.  
  
“Cas?” Dean asks, startled by his friend’s sudden and rigged posture.  
  
“Your father is here,” Cas’ voice breaks on the last word, and Dean’s fingers instinctively tighten on Cas’ arm.  
  
Dean smiles reassuringly at the trembling boy next to him. Dean doesn’t understand why Cas fears his father so much–it’s not like he’s very scary. He’s not scary so much as he is crazy. He’s constantly taking risks that Mary doesn’t appreciate; he’s opinionated and loud mouthed even when he’s not drunk. Dean doesn’t really know what this means exactly, but his father always is a little looser, more affectionate with hugs and has this funny voice that drags like he’s sleepy whenever he’s had those special drinks that Dean’s not allowed to touch. But even then, he’s nice if not a little weird, but Dean’s used to weird so it doesn’t really bother him.   
  
So anyway, he’s only really scary when he’s angry, but he doesn’t get that way often, and it’s never happened to Dean (unless he counts that one time where he took his favoritest colored markers and colored all over the outside of his father’s car with them). But he would never be angry at Castiel, or at least, Dean doesn’t think he would.  
  
  
“I’m right here,” says Dean, because even though he’s sure Cas realizes this, he just wants to make sure he understands.  
  
“I know,” Cas says, and there’s a small smile at the edges of his mouth. Dean can’t help but grin back, because Cas has never really smiled much before. Dean is glad he’s starting to, now, though.  
  
Castiel deserves it.  
  
“You are always there, Dean,”  
  
Dean can’t help but blush, but he knows that it’s true. Dean would do and give just about anything for Cas. And he might be young, but he knows that the way he feels about Cas, is, well, pretty hard to find (he knew this without his mom telling him, but it only helped make him believe it more).   
  
“S’what best friends are for,” Dean says, and then the door opens.  
  
Cas stiffens again, his wings rigid along the line of his back, and some of his feathers touch playfully along the skin of Dean’s forearm.  
  
He thinks it’s funny, but he doesn’t laugh. For some reason he doesn’t really think that would be appreciated. Cas is tense beside him still, almost like John is this figure to be feared–Dean can’t help but find that kind of unbelievable, because he’s an Angel, and they’re probably the most powerful creatures in the whole universe.   
  
“Dean,” John smiles, gathering up his oldest son in a hug. Dean doesn’t know why, but he thinks he loves his dad’s hugs the best.  
  
Maybe, next to Castiel’s.  
  
“Hi dad,” Dean greets.  
  
John notices Castiel for the first time, and the breath gets caught in Dean’s throat. He doesn’t know how his father might react, maybe he’ll pretend he didn’t see anything at all (which happens a lot, according to his mom and Uncle Bobby) or maybe he’ll be mean and rude, and in that case Dean might just have to whoop his butt.  
  
He doesn’t like it when the other kids at school start making fun of Cas, it’ll be even badder if his dad starts in on the fun, too.  
  
It’s hard to tell how John is feeling at any particular moment. Mom says it’s because he’s had a hard life, but Dean thinks it’s just because he’s paranoid and hard to trust. Dean knows this because he’s like that, too.  
  
“Who’s your friend?” He asks, simply curious.  
  
Dean takes a huge breath in, gathering all of his strength, and crosses his arms over his chest.  
  
“This is Castiel,” Dean says, looking at his father in his big eyes. He isn’t going to be scared now, not when he has to be strong for Cas. “And if you don’t like him then I’m moving out and we’re,” he gestures wildly between him and Cas, “moving to Californica!” shouts Dean, decisively.  
  
Dean’s father raises an eyebrow, but his eyes are happy and amused. “Is that so?”  
  
Dean nods. “Yup. Cas is the bestest friend in the entire world. He deserves to be liked, and that’s what he’s goin’ be, okay, kid?” Dean says in a tone that means business, because he doesn’t understand why his dad isn’t showing how much he likes Cas already.  
  
He’ll probably get yelled at later for using the kind of wording he’s using now, but Dean finds he doesn’t really mind, because Cas is worth it.   
  
Cas might just be worth everything.  
  
He’s never met anyone that he’s connected with so fast. They’ve been best friends for what feels like ages now, and even though it wasn’t really that long ago, Dean can’t remember when they weren’t always together.  
  
And anyway, Dean liked Cas from the moment he met him; he thinks it should happen like that with everyone else, too.  
  
Surprisingly, John smiles down at his son, and offers out his hand to a now trembling Castiel. Dean doesn’t look at Cas, but he’s pretty sure he is looking at the side of Dean’s face in gratitude.  
  
Dean doesn’t know what the side of his face did, but he’s sure whatever it was, it was awesome.  
  
“Well, any friend of Dean’s is a friend of mine,” he says, and when Cas tentatively takes his hand, Dean is overwhelmed with the need to hug his dad with all the might in the world, so that’s what he does. His dad smiles at him, the edges confused, like he doesn’t quite know why Dean is hugging him, but doesn’t have the heart to turn the gesture away. Dean is glad, because if he turned him away he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to stand it.  “I’m John, Dean’s father, and none of that Mr. Winchester sh–crap, okay? You can call me John.”  
  
*  
  
Dinner goes smoothly.  
  
Dean wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he had thought that at least one thing would go wrong. Either John wouldn’t like him, or Mary would have accidentally cooked baked beans instead of tater tots, or Sammy would’ve pooped while he was on Cas’ lap–and not even Sam could make something so gross acceptable. There had also been a slim chance that Dean would mess everything up, that maybe he would say something offensive to Castiel’s Father or would push him too far in the wrong direction.   
  
But nothing went wrong.  
  
Other than the fact that Castiel usually doesn’t eat, and hates milk, everything went fine. Great, even. Dean was able to overlook those because they were Cas and it’s not like he could ask him to change.  
  
Dean couldn’t help but think that this was some type of dream, because having his family get along with his very best friend didn’t really seem possible. It somehow was, though, and Dean was very grateful for that.   
  
Now, they’re locked away in Dean’s room, playing Jengo in the middle of all of his train sets and Hot Wheels cars, like they do at recess. Dean likes Cas like this the best, when they’re alone and Cas lets his guard down and is still sort of weird, but in the best possible way. He likes it, likes the way that Dean can be himself, too. It’s not very often that Dean feels cozy enough around someone–sometimes even his family–to be the person that he feels like inside.  
  
Dean doesn’t know how these friendship-type-things usually work, but he’s sure they have something special.   
  
“I didn’t think things would go this great,” he says, not meeting Cas’ eyes as he does.  
  
He doesn’t look at Cas still, but he knows that Cas is doing that head tilt that he does, the one that reminds him of a puppy. He’s sure of it. He always does it when Dean says something especially confusing, like when he was trying to explain the importance of Power Rangers to the the survival of mankind (Cas looked at Dean like he was stupid. “But that’s why humanity has Angels,” he said. Dean sighed, and realized that Cas probably would never understand, but Dean knew he would never stop trying, either).  
  
“I don’t understand.”  
  
Dean shrugs. “I thought that...something would go wrong,” he whispers, “But it was perfect.”  
  
Cas smiles at him. “Your family is hard not to like,”  
  
Dean blushes bright, and for a moment, lets his guard down and says, “You are too,” sort of because it’s true, but mostly because it brightens up Cas’ face.  
  
“Thank you, Dean,” Cas says suddenly, after they played in silence for a while.  
  
It might sound weird–but they’re both pretty weird, anyway–but Dean likes it the best when they’re quiet with each other. It’s nice to know that he doesn’t have to talk to Cas in order to be best friends with him because 1) Dean doesn’t like talking very much to start with, 2) he knows that Cas knows that Dean knows Cas doesn’t like to use his voice more than he has to (he’s a little bit embarrassed by it) and 3) Dean likes the silence, whether it involves Castiel or not.  
  
Dean looks at hi, perplexed. “For what?” He asks, slowly.  
  
Cas looks at Dean like he’s a stupid child, like he’s someone like Alistair, who is stupid and mean, and basically the bane of Dean’s existence–he’s not really sure what that means exactly, but he heard his mom say that about roaches and spiders, and Alistair kind of reminds him of one.   
  
“For existing,” Cas says, and then a light flush covers his cheeks, his eyes on the floor, like he’s kind of upset that he’s even blushing in the first place. “For just being Dean.”  
  
Dean looks kind of confused. “That’s all I can be.”  
  
Cas grins, and gently throws his arms around Dean’s shoulders, wings fluttering against his back, and sometimes they come up to touch Dean’s face. He returns the embrace, because Cas deserves it, and Dean’s willing to give in every once in a while.  
  
“I know,” sighs Cas, “That’s why you’re my best friend.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feel free to follow me on my Tumblr, where I'm taking commissions and just plain prompts:
> 
> sassfleet.tumblr.com


End file.
